


Beneath the Red Sky

by UsagiSquared



Series: Portal - Halflife AU [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: ...sort of, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Halflife Crossover, no one stays dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 01:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14149044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UsagiSquared/pseuds/UsagiSquared
Summary: While Kaito is presumed dead, the Numbers War carries on-starting and finishing without him. Those who were left behind however, find it interrupted by an invasion of another sort, as beings from even farther beyond the stars appear.(A collection of small fics which take place during the Combine War, as well as at its Start)





	1. Combine

They had to drive fast, if they wanted to escape. Yuuma was still completely fatigued from the combined effects of his duel against Heartland, and his encounter with Shark–no… Nasch, his mind corrected, Chris’ eyes narrowing as he focused on the road. Despite arriving in time to face Heartland himself, Yuuma had not stopped the worlds from merging after all–there were ‘portals’ opening all over the planet, pulling at the realm, scattering corrupted numbers and sacrificing countless lives in the process.

And behind them, duels began. Behind them, his brother faced the 'Leader’ of the Barians, his old friend, his old enemy–his rival now in stone flesh, now on the opposite side of the field again. And again behind him, in the rear view mirror, he could see lights streak upward from the locations of each duel, piercing the clouds as power surged through the air.

That, however, was the end.

Explosions rang forth and the next thing he knew his ears were ringing, the van somehow still functioning and the others somehow alive. 'What happened’–that was the question to be asked, as the storms became an idyllic thought, and as ships beyond the very image of their imagination began to cut through the clouds above. 'What happened,’ they asked, 'what happened?’

As he started the van again and took off with the intent of continuing what they started, Micheal would be the one to find out.

’ _NGH… GET HIM OFF OF EARTH!_ ’

 _'N-Niisan?!’ 'IV…_ ’

’ _WE’RE ALL UNDER ATTACK NOW… AND THEY AREN’T DUELING… I DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY’RE USING… THEY’RE GOING AFTER THE MIND AND… NGHK… BUT I…_ ’ The message was taken over by Nasch, and it was in that instant that Chris realized that the 'war’ as they knew it was about to change  _drastically._

’ _Consider this a truce until further notice,_ ’ he explained curtly. ’ _If you value your life, you’ll flee the Earthen plane–NGGK.._.’ Whatever was afflicting Thomas’ mind was now striking Nasch, and the Barian grimaced. ’ _KGhn… Earth is lost,_ ’ he finally hissed, the words sending a chill through his spine and painting horror on the faces of all those with him. ’ _Barian, Astral… Everything is **lost** –I don’t intend to waste any more lives,’_ Nasch continued cryptically. ’ _Get him off the Earthen Plane_.’

Combine.

That was what they were called, their attackers. Combine, which had chosen to strike during the moment of chaos and weakness caused by the triggered merge of realms–a process now permanently halted in place, as all countries of the world moved to react against the sudden invasion.

And as Nasch predicted within the first seven minutes of attack, they would fail. As Nasch predicted, 'everything’ would be lost, with Humanity’s forces diminished considerably, while he himself organized a retreat not to Barian, but instead to the very place he had demanded they take Yuuma’s still slumbering form within. This was an invasion that spanned dimensions, after all. As alien forces overtook everything, from the earth to the once united realms that would now be  _forced_  to reunite, regardless of the consequences to its people. As Nasch pulled as many as he could from his own realm to the only safe place remaining, the only region that could not be touched by the forces attacking…

 _...Yet_.

To the only place none had thought to look; the realm between dimensions…

And the site of Sargasso.

’ _When he wakes up, he will want to stop them._ ’

An impossible task, despite the potential that all sides knew Yuuma carried. From the memories that had been shared between them, Nasch knew more of this than any other there; perhaps even more than Astral.

 _'If he tries to stop them, he will die._ ’

All was lost. In seven hours the earth was 'signed over’, in seven hours, the Barian and Astral realms were dragged with it not by the permission of any deity or ruler, but for the mere fact that their existence was tied to that of the Earth in some strange and partially unknown way, a fact that meant a tighter fist and a swifter 'break’. In  _seven hours_ –mere moments compared to the time that the realms had spent locked in war with the other–the 'Combine’ had won.

 _’…Then let him sleep until he is ready._ ’

Eventually they would have to leave.

Eventually, they would have to 'hide’, find some way to survive.

Eventually, there would be nothing remaining in Sargasso save one or two 'guards’, and an ethereal crystal prison within which no time could pass. Eventually, the sleep would have to break.

And eventually he hoped, even as years passed and even as the clouds gained a permanent tint of desaturated red, they would have to find some way to reclaim what had been 'lost’.


	2. Azrael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And among the brothers three, it seemed he would be the only one not to escape.
> 
> And the only one to 'die'.

When you’re dying, it doesn’t feel like ‘death’. If it’s slow enough, if it’s long enough, it’s more as if every part of the body is beginning to sleep, the nerves losing their function as fatigue closes in. For him, it was like that.

In that Seven Hour War a number of things happened, and none of them good. The world struck out against the attackers they could see, and the attackers struck back with such force that the population of the planet trembled all at once. It had been thought however, that if you survived those seven hours, you would make it. You could escape, survive, and even if it was within the cities, you’d live to see the morning.

Right now however, at the seven hour mark, he was dying. The blood bled through his coat all too easily, crimson dying the pale gold almost greedily as he fell back. It was stupid really–some sort of energy bullet, that was all it took and here he was… An escape attempt gone awry, after all the efforts that had been made to make certain everyone else could get out.

Some thought dying felt 'cold’. He couldn’t argue with that–there was no heat as he lay on the ground, eyes fixed on the clouds above. The darkened clouds, stained red by the partial merge that had forever been frozen in place, beams of light in the distance now turning a sort of violet-indigo as the Combine did their work. It wasn’t as though they’d ever planned on simply eradicating the planet after all. No, they had known just how easy it would be to overpower humanity…

The illusion of it all was their own idea of 'fanservice’, he supposed.

He couldn’t move if he even wanted, but he didn’t any more. Dying did that, he was finding. The will to move, to act… He’d done what he needed right? Now he could just go to hell like the bastard he was and call it a day. Numb cold paralyzing his body could be replaced by embroiled heat, fires of torment and retribution for all the 'sins’ he’d committed in life. Hell awaited him now…

But it didn’t feel like death.

If anything, he thought as he closed his eyes, the light fading from them before he could even breathe his last, it felt more like entering a perpetual sleep, an endless dream from which most would never awaken.


	3. Sirepa

Once they reached a certain point they had to go on foot. Roads had been remarkably clear for them, even after leaving Heartland. One theory went that the Barian Merge had spread across Japan before it was brought to a grinding halt, marked by the permanent fixation of the beam in the distance, and the faded shine of violet it now took.

The colour reminded him of the crest…

However, they had no time to draw such comparisons. As they drove cities were becoming closed down, roads kept clear as people were quickly made prisoner in their own home. Those in villages and towns were safe, for now…if anything they likely failed to realize that what was wrong was something other than the weather.

They drove for hours on end, with Chris refusing to take so much as a slight nap while they tore through the Seikan Tunnel to Hokkaido.  _‘Is this safe?_ ’ they had been asked, Yuuma’s classmates still in the back. Earlier it had been on Micheal to take Yuuma out, to open a portal to his father and entrust him with the task of 'getting him off earth’. With a portal back, they had barely been able to escape.

One of them, at the least, was already lost in fact.

As they rushed through the railway tunnel he assured them they were fine. No trains were running now, and it was likely that they wouldn’t be running for a fairly long time after this. The tunnels and stations that they passed were bare and silent, for the entire fifty-three kilometers that the tunnel stretched.

When they were out they were in Hokkaido. When they were out, the sky was just as dark as back in Heartland, but for reasons relating to more natural causes than anything else.

When they were out they could see what the world was likely seeing right now.

Ships in the air honing in on the largest cities, beams of energy made to subjugate anything in its path–they drove for cover immediately, taking to the desolate backroads of the region, and as they came to the mountain range near the center, the van was abandoned. ’ _How far from here?_ ’ came the question, and as a few of them shivered beneath the winter’s chill, Micheal absently rubbed the bracelet on his wrist, a reminder of what consequences were nearly brought upon them the last time they’d risked portals. ’ _About three kilometers_ ’

It was cold–they would probably move slower, with that in mind, but with adrenaline still pumping and with Chris’ estimate including hidden walkways and tunnels that remained uncharted, there was hope that they would be there in under an hour. Perhaps even half an hour, if they brought things to a brisk gait, and with the nervous tension sitting around them now, that was no surprise. They walked with their eyes shifting about their surroundings, ducking beneath trees as the occasional combine ship passed overhead, and resuming pace before finally coming to a cavern entrance in the side of one of many mountains in the area. The path they had taken was a 'fresh’ one; had it not been for Chris and Micheal, they likely wouldn’t have even realized it was a path at all, and that was the point. They entered the cavern, and after around ten minutes of walking, they were there.

Deep beneath the volcanic mountain, in the final hidden stronghold at their disposal within Japan. One of many locations worldwide formed by the Arclights for research, now seeing use as a refuge to those from a now discarded war.

It would be a tight fit, but not an uncomfortable one. Bedrooms of their own were offered to the guests, with girls taking one, boys taking the other. While most of those who had chosen to remain behind to duel were forced to escape on their own, the van had quickly taken a few others as they fled–Tetsuo was one, but Anna and Fuuya as well had joined them, taking refuge where the middle Arclight had lost the chance.

Thomas’ room was off limits, while they were here.

As for the youngest, and the eldest, they were currently setting up an area of the lab for sleeping. They had a lot of work to do, if they were to figure anything out–Micheal in particular was determined to assist in that regard, and so there they were.

“One… Two… And…” With the flip of a few switches, power was on, humming steadily and filling the stone chambers with light. The advantage of taking refuge near an active volcano; energy, however risky, was plentiful. From heat they gained both warmth and power for the devices at their disposal, and from there they would be able to plan their next move. Food would be an issue soon enough, of course.

However the theory was that once the cities were taken, and the Combine set about to gather resources they needed–water, energy, and etc–they would be left alone enough to risk searching for what they themselves required.

“Niisama,” Micheal asked from the side, the boy seated on a grated loft that had initially been used for storage. If anything would be safe to put the futons on for now, it would probably be there–anything on the ground could wind up 'in the way’ of whatever work came in the future. “Can you pass that pillow over?”

The pillows in question had been carried over from another storage room, and were at the moment stacked by the closed door. “This one?” he started, moving to pick it up. “Ah–”

As he moved for the pillow he froze, the pile of carried goods seeming to shift slightly. “Niisama?” Micheal questioned from behind, coming down from the loft. “Is something–”

“ _Ree-!_ ”

“AH–!”

What had presented itself as a tiny shadow in the darkness, something with slightly luminous eyes, darted off, resembling little more than a blur as it ducked behind one of the computers in the room. The pillow was dropped. Micheal came over with wide eyes, looking to his brother as the elder one stood. “N-Niisama… What was–”

Chris did not answer, instead looking to his brother and making a motion for silence before they moved toward the computer. “I’m not sure,” he whispered, kneeling down to approach the hiding spot. “However–”

Only one of them could get a proper look from here, if it could be called that. Crouching between the spaces in the computers, the shadow’s details could barely be made out at all, the little one curled into a ball with a scruff of ruffled hair covering its head. Once again, large, luminous eyes in a shade of violet turned his way, and for a brief moment both locked eyes before the tiny creature reacted.

“ _nrRRE–!_ ”

“Hmn-!” Chris dodged to the side as the shadow bolted past, nearly taking a part of his face with it. His eyes were still held in that wide-eyed state of questioning however, and as he stood, Chris moved for the computer immediately. “Do what you can to catch it!” he hurriedly told his brother, the younger one nodding. As Micheal rushed to do so, Chris began tapping rapidly at the keys before him, soon enough pulling a communication screen before him. “This is 'V’,” he started sternly, the connection line reading 'pending’ before him. “I need to speak with either Nasch, Mizael, or Durbe  _immediately_.”

“Come on…” Behind him, Micheal was climbing up onto the loft to try and coax the thing out of the shadows of a corner. “We won’t hurt you, just come out…”

“ _EeeeE–!_ ”

“AH–! Shoot–!” It wasn't going well.

A small 'thud’ as it collided back into the pillows behind him, Chris sighing as the other end of the feed finally replied. “ ** _What is it, 'V’?_** ” Nasch. Lovely. Chris found himself holding back a small bit of nausea at the sight of the Barian Lord, thoughts trailing perhaps too much on the one his brother had intended to face to the death in a duel only to wind up dead in another way entirely. Even so, that was not  _his_  fault. Thomas had stayed behind willingly. Thomas had stayed behind because there was something that needed to be done and he wanted to give his brothers as much of a headstart as possible.

Thomas’ death was not Nasch’s doing, and he forced himself to keep that in mind. “There’s something I need to speak to you about,” Chris began, his brother now slowly creeping toward the pile of pillows with his hands ready to snatch at the 'shadow’. “A few things, actually; if you could come here as soon as possible–”

“Gotch-  _AAaAAH-_ -!”

“ _RrEEEEEeeeee-EEEEE–!_ ”

The particular sound that the shadow emitted this time was different, with Micheal briefly snatching the thing from behind only for it to not only break free, but begin to dart about the room in the form of a streak of light, flying against stone and steel in a manner not unlike a pinball as Chris flinched and attempted to continue. “Mostly it’s regarding your shapeshifting abilities, and anything you might know about rein-”

“UM, NIISAMA?” The light continued to dart around, with Micheal struggling quite terribly to snatch at the thing as it passed. “HELP?”

“ ** _…What do you have in your lab?_** ”

A sigh was the only response Nasch received, with Chris turning to frown at his brother. “ _III-_ -”

“I’m  _trying_ –!”

Yes he could see that… And if this kept up they’d lose half their equipment he realized, looking to the side for anything that could possibly do them more use than swinging their arms at it.

Aha…

“There–!”

“ _VeeEEE–_ ”

The box under his arms shook violently as it locked the 'shadow’ against the ground, the captive more than likely streaking in circles against the walls of the metal crate before giving in. “Hahh… Th… Thank you, niisama…”

A curt nod was made in reply to that, with the rest of Chris’ attentions moving to the box. The shaking stopped, as did the violent 'thuds’ from each smack against the walls, and for a moment there was silence. It did not take long however, for another sound to meet their ears instead.

“ _Ueee…. wueeeeeeee…. EeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEE…_ ”

“Ahh…”

Pity came over Micheal’s face, but Chris ignored it, looking to the box with a frown. It sounded like a child, almost–the keening wail was miserable and frail, the tones emitted suiting nothing that could possibly be older than a young child, and yet the last number of things that had occurred told them clearly that it could be nothing 'normal’ at all. While Micheal continued to regard the box with sympathy, Chris slowly moved his arms away from the crate, leaving nothing but his hands upon it.

“I am going to lift this box,” he warned the captive, despite not entirely believing that he would be understood. “But you  _cannot_  move, understand?”

To his surprise, the keening quieted, and after closing his eyes to take a deep breath, he nodded.

“Alright… Now–”

The box was removed and the brothers froze, eyes locked upon the little one as it was revealed by the light. The little one’s back and legs were decorated a faded violet, the same as the light of the beam frozen in place on the Earth. The remainder however were an even paler gold, with strands of hair in shades of an even lighter hue, the colours alone bringing the recently dead to mind. A tiny head slowly moved to look at its surroundings with large eyes, and it did not help. Other than its eyes, there was nothing on its face; nothing save two splashes of violet, the shape alone combining with everything else to cause Micheal’s eyes to water.

“F… Fo–”

“Thomas…” Just as Micheal unconsciously reached forward, Chris found himself doing similar, his fingers coming near the gemmed shoulder of the little one before pulling back as it flinched away. “…Thomas,” he repeated, with only a sliver of confidence in the tone. It was a stark contrast with his general way of speaking, yet perhaps that was for the best. The creature’s trembling slowed, a small mouth opening to take in shaky breaths while it turned to regard the much taller being before it.

“N… Niisama,” Micheal whispered, swallowing as the tears in his eyes finally started to fall. “What is… What’s going on?”

Slowly, Chris’ hands moved to pick the little one up, the skin of the child–barely more than an infant, really–feeling cool to the touch. “ _N-niiiiiii…_ ”

Behind them, Nasch was speaking. It was doubtful that he’d heard much more than the earlier screeching and mayhem after all, and similarly it was no surprise that he hadn’t said anything. “ ** _V_** ,” he started curtly. “ ** _I can’t hold this line for long–as it is, we can’t risk any portals. This is the best we can manage without bringing 'them’ straight to us all,_** ” the Barian finished. “ ** _Whatever it is you need, will have to–_** ”

Nasch froze, and if he had a tongue at that moment, he likely would have bitten it. Turning around slowly, Chris faced him with an expression of forced calm, a touch of fear still remaining in his eyes as the little thing in his arms clung to his jacket. From where Nasch was looking to them, he could see the hair, the skin, the eyes… He could see exactly what the brothers had been met with upon removing the box, and in the silence that he created, Chris spoke. “I repeat– _anything_  you have on those matters,” he 'requested’, “Would be appreciated.”

The Barian Lord continued to stare at what was in Chris’ arms, and as he himself forced a similar 'calm’ over his face, nodded.

“ ** _I’ll have a portal ready the moment the skies are clear._** ”


	4. Phantoms

They haven’t left the base, and it doesn’t look like they will for a while. Plans are coming together though, so that’s a start. Plans to start gathering intel, plans to start maybe even fighting  _back_ …

They won’t be able to do that for a while, and they know that, so attention has turned to research and survival.

When Nasch opens the portal, it is neither him, nor Merag, nor even Durbe who steps forward. Perhaps he thought that he and his sister would cause tension. Perhaps Durbe himself remained behind because of his own connection to the majority of the Barian peoples. When Mizael comes forward however the tension comes in nonetheless, with breaths baited and held as they wonder how the ‘dragon master’ will respond.  
  
They had never met this barian in person, after all.

Mizael requests that they leave them alone for a short time. Chris refuses immediately, and it takes considerable argument and debate before the deal can be made. A few minutes. A few minutes, that’s all…

The 'child’ is not Barian. He bears traits of it, Mizael explains, but he is not one of 'them’. He is something else, an unknown, an enigma, and for that reason there is little that he can help with. Even so, Mizael becomes a regular visitor–his skill with portals, it turns out, can go from flashy and attention snatching, to silent and undetectable and that is why he is chosen to 'assist’.

Because if any of the others were to attempt the journey, they would certainly be caught.

Most of Mizael’s visits can be considered 'check ups’ at the start. Comparing 'Thomas’ growth Barian growth, energy levels and physical strength and stamina proving his initial statements right more and more. And 'Thomas’ doesn’t seem to see much from these visits. Mizael comes and goes, leaving before most in the hide-away even see him, and to someone who never sleeps Mizael’s presence is merely an 'instant’.

Within one year, they think they can pin down his 'age’. Truthfully he’s not that old of course–how could he be anything but? And physically, he barely grows, still fumbling on limbs which seem more appropriate for a two or three year old.

Mentally, he appears to be closer to five.

’ _Miihal, m’ face feels funny…_ ’

He calls Chris 'ani’, but for him it’s always his name, however mispronounced. He speaks relatively clearly, and fluently–even if it isn’t in the language of their own birth country. For the most part, Michael sees Thomas during the evenings; they’ve set up a schedule, to keep him monitored and occupied during those hours, in the times when most would be sleeping away. It’s a tiring task, but one that’s required.

Thomas likes to get into trouble, it seems.

’ _What are you doing?_ ’ They find him raiding one of the med-kits with his head sloppily covered in bandage, and when they try to take it he runs without thought. ’ _Thomas, what are you doing?_ ’ When the bandages are gone it’s things like towels and bedsheets that he goes after, going so far as to hold it over his head like some sort of hood. When that doesn’t work he uses his blanket, and sometimes during the nightshifts when most are asleep Mihael can hear the little one whimper from his pile of blankets that 'it hurts’.

There is nothing on his face, but when he finally uncovered it, Thomas cried.

“Shhhh, shhh shhh it’s ok..!” He’s not used to this, Mihael. “Shhhh Thomas…” He’s not used to this at all. He was the youngest. He was the 'baby’ of the family, the one who cried the one who had others looking after him until he was old enough to do better and know better it was  _him_.

That’s not how things are now.

“Shhhh shhh… Where does it hurt?” he asks, fingers brushing short and almost cloud-like hair as he attempts to console the little one. From as soon as they could, Thomas has been bundled in clothes, thick and warm–Mizael claims this to be another 'non-barian’ trait. The Barian Lord doesn’t particularly feel the cold when he comes into the region.

Thomas however, feels too much of it.

Mihael hands the boy a marker–something simple, something that washes off, when he asks this question. “Show me where it hurts alright?” he asks, his voice breaking slightly as he forces the question out. “Use it just like this,” he continues, drawing a little on his hand.

When the first line is made, Mihael holds his breath.

When the second line is made, a small mirror held for reference, Mihael wonders if he needs to breathe at all.

“It’s not as burny,” the little one claims while he stares at his reflection, apparently oblivious to the mental turmoil of his current guardian.

“Is… Is that so?” Thomas nods. “Well, maybe looking at where it hurts helped,” Mihael manages to say. “You… You should see if rubbing that spot helps too, okay?” His voice is strained when he says this, and Thomas again just nods, grinning back with the odd and seemingly mouthless face he has before it splits into toothed one that’s more common of the boy.

“Un! I like it better this way too!” Ah–

“Ahh… You can’t leave it there though–!”

“Why not, I like it!”

“Well… You can’t!” Mihael protests. “It could… You could scare everyone,” he forces himself to explain, “They could think you’re hurt!”

“But it makes it not hurt!”

“Well, you’re not supposed to draw on your face either–!” he continues in panic, sweating somewhat as the boy tilts his head. “And… Besides,” Mihael continues. “'Nasch-oji’ might even try to do something if you’re not careful, neh..?”

All the barians are 'oji’. They’re old, they’re 'rocks’… All of them, as far as Thomas has been aware. He’s only met the others over video, through short and curt conversations between them and the others that Thomas overhears, and that’s enough for him to decide this. It’s enough for him to make assumptions about anyone he overhears, and for the most part with Nasch it has been along the lines of the Barian lord sounding 'mean’ or 'angry’ all the time.

Thomas opens his mouth to speak, and Mihael realizes that this is not entirely the case.

“Is 'Nasch’ really that old?”

“E.. Eh?” It catches Mihael off guard but he answers, nodding. “Of course; 'Nasch’ is a Barian Lord. He’s older than any human on earth!”

Thomas looks down for a moment, and frowns. “…Huh… I thought he was supposed to be younger than you were…”

By the time the comment has registered in Mihael’s mind, Thomas has left down the hall to wash his face of the marker, as requested. And Mihael, white as a sheet and trembling not from the cold but instead from whatever other nervous breakdown he barely realizes is taking place, wonders what this means.


	5. Relativity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was not, strangely enough, the cards which made him feel the worst about the event.
> 
> Rather it was the fact that the event had happened so long ago, before he could be deigned sane enough to comprehend the news of it.
> 
> (While the war progressed, children needed to grow- and Haruto was no exception.)

After the suppression fields went up, kids seemed to just ‘vanish’, as far as he could see. At first it wasn’t something he’d particularly noticed–especially not as one of the 'lucky ones’, the ones who got out of the cities when the war hit, and one among those who were able to hide to prepare for comeback. As he got older though, it became impossible to ignore. Any playgrounds he passed in cities with rebels undercover were either abandoned, or revisited by the nostalgic, the ones who had dreamed of families and would now forever have only that.

Soon the 'youngest’ moved from three to five, from five to eight, and beyond. Children were replaced by, at the least, teens…and he himself was no longer a child.

That was something he had been pushing for a while, to be honest. That he didn’t need 'protection’ any more, that his 'illness’ had become his 'strength’ in these times, old sensors and limiters dulled and hidden by cloth and hair over time. That he was an adult. That he could  _help_.

It took Chris this long before the scientist finally allowed his will to bend at those whims, on one condition. His partner would be someone he knew personally. Someone who had witnessed the seven hour war firsthand, someone who had dealt with others 'his age’…whatever that meant.

His name was 'Mizael’. Despite his age, he looked no older than his new partner, and despite wearing the modified garb of rebel forces, he carried with him a regal air. He was marked over the face with red, and he wore a hairpiece of gold on one side…

And he had blond hair, and blue eyes, something that had him freeze with shock for so long that Mizael himself responded with mild alarm, only slightly veiled with discontent at the 'child’ he was going to be working with for a short time.

’ _Sorry…you remind me of someone._ ’

Mizael seemed almost nauseated by the prospect of reminding someone of a human, and stated as such, once that had been said. In return, he decided that he wouldn’t tell Mizael that he didn’t actually realize he wasn’t human to begin with. After all, technically speaking, both of them had seen the seven hour war.

It was Mizael who had been on the field for it. Mizael, who was ordered to retreat alongside the other Barian Lords, spawning the mass evacuation that only barely saved their people from the fate of the remainder of the world.

It was Mizael who knew of what war  _was_  and more importantly what an unbalanced war was. The rebel forces were touch and go, keeping to the shadows and hitting where they could.

It was the sort of war that Mizael detested, though he wondered if the reasoning behind this went further than being unable to 'show off’ as he was apparently known for. Detest aside, Mizael was good at his job. He could create portals between the very fabrics of the detectors cities used to search for 'Barian Presence’, slipping in and out with ease. He could strike fast, and strike hard from a distance, and when it came to close combat he was undefeated by all but a few 'allies’, the term left entirely vague when questioned.

It wasn’t until the raid that he realized why Chris had picked Mizael, however. If Chris had simply wanted him paired with a Barian after all, there were others he could have worked with easily, particularly with the medical experience he had. There was only one thing that they lacked however, that Mizael did not. Just one…

“It was my brother’s.”

Mizael had found the card while they were on a raid, the slip falling from his pocket and barely being caught by the Barian lest it fall to the ground and give their location away. It had been regarded with wide eyes and almost choked sounds of alarm–but it was not until the mission was over, not until they could relax outside upon the roof of a distant building, that it was questioned. ’ _Where did you get this?’_  Mizael had asked, practically trembling as the card was handed back.

And Haruto had regarded the other with confused quiet, his answer coming with a choke as he tried not to think too hard about the memory. “They gave me his deck when they told me he was gone,” he explained, and there was no question to what 'gone' meant.

The words had a humbling effect on his partner, if it could be called that. The blond seemed to deflate almost, words caught in his throat as what had been expected was not said, and what had never come to mind entered his ears in their place. “…A card such as that,” he eventually responded, looking to his partner coolly. “Is not obtained by  _chance_.”

“I know.” Again, Mizael was quieted, perhaps more so as he noted the somewhat detached tone his partner was now speaking with. “…He got this card because of me.” There was no answer to this. The two sat in silence, wind blowing gently and neither looking to the other, and eventually, he spoke again. “As a 'Numbers Hunter’–this was supposed to be his greatest card, his 'ace’.”

“Your brother was in the war then?” It was not an unexpected question. At least two numbers hunters had appeared from 'nowhere’ before the seven hour war, and neither of them had even briefly seen Mizael beforehand. Mizael himself had only truly known of the Arclights because of their involvement with the other Emperors; the only reason Durbe knew of the one he faced in particular, was because of Droite’s past experience with 'Tron’–Chris’ father. So really, it wasn’t a question that was at all out of place.

He just wished it didn’t cause his eyes to water at the thought. “…No,” he managed to respond, voice cracking somewhat. “…He died before the 'emissary’ even arrived here.” As Mizael regarded him in shocked silence, eyes widening while the rest of his face remained as stone, the choked speaking continued, strained tones attempting to right themselves to a more collected manner of speech, and failing terribly. “He was shot. He got shot trying to get me out from my Dad’s facility.”

Mizael already knew about who his partner’s father was–if there was anything that could not be ignored during their meeting, it was that. The man whom Vector had formed an agreement with, and the reason for the now dead limiters that were permanently screwed into the teen’s body, their use long since expired. Similarly, it was mere guesswork that allowed the blond to safely presume the circumstances in which those limiters had been installed.

Which meant that it was just as easy for Mizael to assume the situation surrounding what his partner told him now. There was a brother–a brother who had in his possession the 'Photon Dragon’, a beast rivaled only by the dragon he himself carried, who in another time, could have perhaps been someone he would have desired to test his mettle against. There was a brother, now long dead…

“When we first met, when I said you looked like someone…” There was a shuddering breath, and still, they did not meet each other’s eye. “…You remind me of him, in a few ways.” Mizael continued to regard the boy with silence, watching as his partner looked over the card and shook. “It’s not just how you look–if that was it I don’t think I’d have lasted too long in City 04,” he laughed, the noise pained and forced and far too distant from the warm and almost naive one that Mizael was growing used to. “It just feels like… Somehow, your soul and his soul were the same, you know? As if…”

Mizael watched as Haruto turned, the boy’s gold eyes wet with tears that were already staining the sides of his face in salt and dust. “I understand,” he responded, looking back out to the outlands before them. Once again silence settled between them, unbroken and unquestioned for a number of moments while darkness set in above and left a dull red glow upon the horizon.

“…Do you think if he was here now, it would be him in my place?”

The silence continued, and Haruto corrected himself.

“…Nevermind. I…”

“I think,” Mizael murmured, closing his eyes a moment in the face of the setting sun, “That given time, we might have come to understand the other.”

Silence fell yet again, and when the darkness followed, they took their leave.

And in the back of his mind, Mizael found himself wondering what it would have been like, to have seen the 'Photon Dragon’ filled with light instead of dulled shadow, as the card Haruto now stored away upon his person. If perhaps, alongside that light…

The shine of the Tachyon Dragon could eventually return.


End file.
